THE CUBAN QUESTION

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CUBAN REVOLUTION 

''Castro had stolen our youth', these ladies told us

When they want  to chat and talk about what happens at home, Cubans go to Versailles where the gentry reunites.  A little bit aristocratic and conservative, Versailles opens late at night. By 6 and 12 PM, all of the Cuban politics is there. Workers in jeans, ladies wearing eardrops and necklaces listen to the last news form their native island while swallowing teas, scrambled eggs and waiting something they wish to happen. A very relaxing place, Versailles displays TV interviews and VIP visitors, some of them ready to make news and maybe history. Once at Christmas, we had to stand long before being seated. 

Calle Ocho is part of the so-called Little Havana, with noting to do with  the remote and crumbling Havana in the island . It is considered the core of the Cuban political life. A sometimes quiet neighborhood, Calle Ocho conserves the touch of tropical countries. More than 40 years later, nostalgia and memories of the past is lively. Everything you see or watch has not completely move out of this past. 

History is everywhere present in Calle Ocho.

Elderly are delighted to recall these memories . bay of Pigs' veterans, prisoners freshly released and finally settled in the US, opponents watching every move in the island... They want to associate  Cuban future with the turmoil of past It is behind their windows and at the shadow of the oversize trees that Cubans dream of their countries. Once again, a relaxation feeling is not absent.  As if in the midst of more serious questions Cubans keep their sense of humor and hedonistic life philosophy. The 1900-like resorts or guest houses lining the famous avenue bring as much relaxation as Little Havana is being modernized.

Nevertheless, good life or not, what really matters and what people are expecting is the coming of a few Cuban generation still linked to their island and raised  in the shadow of a  free America. Many expect the real change would take place now. This is not in vain that some Cuban voices are talking about Miami as the capital of sun, exile and anticommunism. 

 The last one, they add with pride, is well a Cuban job.

FEVER IN THE SIXTIES :LET'S TWIST AGAIN

Come on everybody, clap your hands
Oh, you're looking good
I'm gonna sing my song, it won't take long

We're gonna do the twist and it goes like this

Come on, let's twist again like we did last summer
Yeah, let's twist again like we did last year
Do you remember when things were really hummin'?
Yeah, let's twist again, twistin' time is here

Chobby Checkker

Go round 'n around 'n up 'n down we go again
Oh, baby, make me know you love me so and then
Twist again like we did last summer
Come on, let's twist again lik
(Instrumental)




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Nikita was turning 14 maybe when twist dance became so popular in Port-au-P, Haiti that every teenager prided himself by twisting. At this time, JFK's America was still a wonderful land we're dreaming of, let alone that France  whose growns up kept the language like a war trophee. Haiti had been  displaying  a rural like touch even tough wealthy  and famous were launching what over the years would have ended up modernizing this country. But by then, life even traditional was  worth living.

Twist dance came home. There was no farewell to merengue and the new beat of compas. However, as the Haitian society were at a turning point withall   kind of conflicts, class, color, religion and language, youths escape by imitating overseas'life in dancing, singing and dressing, save that the identity crisis didn't prevent the very country from finding out its own exit.

Nikita told me she was a fan of Les Copains at Radio Haiti. Later on, she was rather delighted at listening to Gerard Duvperil from Jazz des Jeunes. The late Dupervil will tell us that Des jeunes was the watch dog  of the Haitian soul and traditions. But, looking back at those years, nobody seemed to have thought at the turmoil of our times. we're blind on ourselves and people that used to make our daily landscape.

Twist Again was then the hit hop that resounded a lot from City Club and Macaya, those brothel of the struggling  middle class in down town suburbs. Never did pretty girls  like Nikita wander that far. Alix Chalmers, a school mate of the fall 1963 was thinking twice about that. Nevertheless, when I felt smart enough to ask myself what it's true about this volatile mindset of our fellows, I am even today convinced that we miss a golden opportunity to see the world,our world as it is.

Twist Again was driving everyone crazy, even the American president John F. Kennedy. His wife Jacky used to dance in a childish way this dance born among Black Americans from the South. In Haiti, before bese bas from Tabou Gombo, every one was twisting. At Rex Theatre, Les Copains came with a kind of Elvis Presley singer that threw himself on ground ending his singing " Every body in Haiti was imitating somebody overseas" concluded the author of One day for the hunter one day for the prey,  Gage Averill.University of  Chicago Press,  1997

The government at this time was aware of this on going crisis in the youth. As time went on, the Elvis Presley fans switched very soon to mini-jazz, after so many avatars: Les vampires, Les Corvington, Les Mordus .... A cultural revolution was unfolding, the Haitian soul was at the risk of vanishing away...But, it is no secret that nature is what it is.

Nikita doesn't twist any longer. Time has changed. This change of guard implies a change of heart. Chobby Checkker, the twist king, got some fat in the belly. The sixties are gone and the girls we were gazing at went to church every morning,pacing uneasily overcrowded streets. My friend Alix  Chalmers is cursing this fading era when Nikita and the likes were the queen of the hearts. 

Et maintenant ?

Guess what: Nikita had escaped to the Recul, Camp Perrin

LA QUESTION HAITIENNE: QUO VADIS , HAITI ?

Est-il vrai que dans le cas d’Haïti l’essentiel reste à faire ?

Je suis de cet avis.

Pourtant c’est loin d’être l’opinion d’une bonne partie de l’élite pensante, maintenant que le branle est donné dans les affaires et  qu’une politique dont le moins qu’on puisse dire c’est qu’elle est une politique de réaménagement du territoire, avec en perspective qu’en changeant le cadre physique il s’ensuivra ce que l’on pourrait bien appeler cette dilation de l’imagination ou pout tout dire cette sorte de réveil des consciences, telle que l’ère des conquérants au 16 ème siècle nous en offre l’exemple.  Les plus optimistes ajouteraient qu’Haïti est en train de sortir de son marasme et de son isolement. Depuis 1994 et le séisme de 2012, le pays semble être parvenu dans une ère nouvelle. Le futur devient des plus attrayants  comme si à cette fièvre haïtienne s’ajoutait également une fièvre de la découverte.

La question de toujours « Quo Vadis, ( ou vas-tu) Haïti », qu’une carte postale anonyme  se posait une fois  semble même n’être plus de mise. Pour le meilleur et pour le pire, la modernité s’installe chez nous. L’internet et le culte du téléphone cellulaire donne bien la mesure de cette  rentrée d’Haïti dans les grands circuits internationaux. En 1965, l’atterrissage d’un jet a l’aéroport de Mais Gâté n’avait pas à ce point réveillé les consciences. Mais, dans la première décennie de  l’an 2000, cette Haïti encore en grande partie rurale  se meurt à petit feu. Aucune différence entre les gamins de Lisbonne ou de Rio et ceux de  Pt Salut, en matière de communication. Même si le PNB continue encore à mesurer les niveaux de vie, dans le domaine de la communication, l’accélération tend à l’uniformisation de notre planète. Bill Gates notait dans une communication à Harvard que cette planète se rétrécissait et devenait même trop étroite.

Haïti se trouve donc engagée comme sur la route des conquérants curieux de savoir ce qui se cachait derrière les océans. L’ile  à Vaches dans le Sud émerge comme du fond des mers Caraïbes avec ses trésors  et ses secrets. L’ile de la Tortue invite à retrouver ces bassins ensevelis où Pauline Bonaparte sortait de son bain. Pour la première fois, dans son histoire, Haïti se trouve inscrite sur la carte des destinations cosmopolites. A la suite du séisme, on disait comme dans le cas du Portugal ou de la Californie, qu’Haïti pourrait faire l’objet d’un  capitalisme perçu alors comme une sorte de : destructive création ».

Adieu foulards, adieu madras, est-on alors tenté de répéter comme  au temps  des derniers tangos de Paris. Qu’après tant de souffrances Haïti puisse renaitre la modernité, quoi de plus enviable ! Cependant, le printemps n’est pas si rose qu’on le croit. Sans prétendre jouer les Cassandre, il y a derrière la magie de notre époque des zones d’ombre qui pourraient bien annoncer la fatalité si redoutée mais hélas toujours possible.

La portoricanisation reste  toujours une échéance probable, laquelle ne ferait que signer l’échec des élites. La privatisation qui parait inévitable ne ferait l’affaire que d’une certaine mafia, trop heureuse de chanter cette ère de libertés qui au fond menacent  la liberté. A quoi sert en fin de compte l’état quand les marchands se mêlent de faire une histoire  qu’ils ignorent ? Non pas que la libre entreprise ne soit dans une certaine mesure ce panacée qui libère le génie. Cependant, de quoi demain sera-t-il fait quand, la production réduite à néant, on est sur le point  de ne tenir que grâce aux miettes de ce festin de sourds, indifférents à toute haitianité ?

A la fin des années 80, un journaliste américain de passage en Haïti notait déjà que ce pays était en train d’agoniser rien qu’à lire sur les pancartes publicitaires ce qu’on considérait déjà comme la macdonalisation d’Haïti. Les choses ont empiré depuis. L’âme haïtienne  n’existe que dans la nostalgie.  Les vendeurs d’illusions de gauche ou de droite qui croyaient qu’Haïti avait encore un rôle à jouer semblent se raviser. Le destin d’Haïti ne nous réserve en fait que le sort d’être phagocyté par la grande Amérique et la communauté internationale. C’est vers une telle étape que se dirige la presente génération.

Pourtant, pour ceux qui connaissent bien cette Haïti qui n’a tenu que par le pouvoir de l’illusion, la déroute est loin d’être le dernier rendez vous d’un peuple qui sut confondre et dérouter l’adversaire. Que ce soit en religion ou en politique,  Haïti est capable encore de sursauts les uns aussi inattendus  que les autres. Ce n’est pas la première fois qu’on invente un destin pour Haïti, mais ce n’est pas non plus la première fois qu’Haïti  réinvente son propre destin.

C’est sans doute là que se prépare  la bataille d’Haïti.

FARMING LIFE

QUIET COWS

MANMEL KA BATAY

A

longside a historical setting made of old bricks and collapsing walls owerhelmed by  by wild life and uncontrollable vegetation, Permele ruins display an eerie look that is unbearable to many even natives. Fifty years ago, women used to sit down at the so-called  “ Kafou Pemerle” in front of  country bread and other  farm products. A famous gentleman farmer named Charlot Dennery has been running his store with a kind of bucolic paternalism. Today everything is gone, save what had survived the passing of time.Those ruins are however  so alive that even  past seemed dying with a  deep sorrow.

\

But, something new  is about to challenge  the worst side of history .  New comers and mostly  young people try to lengthen the bright era of Charlot Dennery. By the way, Dennery’s time date back  years before the 1915 US  occupation . Peasants still have a good memory of  Me Chalot ‘s stay. Almost  a century later, a new start is launching over there thanks to Manmel Ka Batay, a farming enterprise set up by Jn Pierre E. Bataille.

A native of Pemerle, Jn Pierre E. Bataille, aka.Manno Bataille recalls the Manuel’s saga of  the Roumain’s novel: withered aqueducts, burn up crops and the rest.. Pemerle had endured  the months of “soley tombe” of  the hot summer. But to say the least, unfortunate places always attract. M.  Bataille had long fallen in love with his native land.

Between Les Cayes and Camp Perrin, this vacation and tourist destination where famous colonels and generals such as Henri Namphy and Pierre Haspil went to enjoy early retirement and rural good life, this southern countryside calls for adventures and ocean evasion. As a nearby backdrop the Macaya sierra lets every one  glance at horizons and extended plains. Permerle get this" beautiful coup d'oeil" watched at the time a careful writer Moreau de St Mery did a deep report on the French part  of Hispaniola.

It is there that Manno Bataille along with his nephew Yves Marie Fantal, a  Boston-based technician, have gathered cows, goats and some 15workers to bring a new life in this apparently desperate area. In the early fifties, Permerle was a booming place when seasonal cane harvest made money flowing a lot. Peasants were in a hurry behind their  donkeys and loaded burros that were  pacing muddy pathways. By the 70s, tobacco overwhelmed the sugar economy. Then later came migration; many were leaving for the city or overseas. Even Manno was leaving. But, tied to his land, he spent only one year in the US.  “ I grew up among and with farmers...I like gardening”

Today, after having recently married his daughter, a lawyer graduated from a Queens College,he came back to his passion like to an old loved one.

 With a herd of 60 cows and bulls, Manmel Ka Batay delivers every day dozens  gallons of  milk to customers coming from far away as Les Cayes. These animals receive good care from veterinary specialists and have their own drinking water system. " I am doing my best to have a minimum of standard over there", Manno Bataille claims.

A former teacher and farming entrepreneur, MM. Bataille and his nephew Fantal are doing gardening as well. While in the US, their mango plantation would be very soon good for the market. Smiling, M. Bataille expects to make a good deal of money with his mango francique, in high demand anywhere in the US.

As if rural life were never useless.

CAMP GERARD RUINS

Cows relaxing on a cloudy horizon as backdrop...

SEPTEMBER BLOOD

.
THE NIGHT OF THE KILLERS

J. B.Aristide

What  had remained from Sylvio Claude

September 29, 1991 seems to have been the fourth night of fire in Haitian history.

That night dozens died, mostly killed by violent mob. Not accidentaly, because it was an announced death series.

Long time before, indeed, as months went by and  Jean Bertrand Aristide, the serving president feeling  uncomfortable with the Haitian  establishment,  he decided to step forward in his killing saga. At the main jail in the country, the Penitencier National, Dr Roger Lafontant and his men were still a threat to his emerging power.  Josel, a  young officer  was approached and asked to have a way or another way Dr Lafontant assassinated.  Worried  about  such a deadly project,  Josel went to see his general Raoul Cedras.

"Remember, general Cedras told him, you’re a soldier and you have  to stand  by the military code.' 

Josel  felt reassured. But, he didn’t survive .  A few weeks later, his body was found in the streets.

Later on, on the 19 September  1991 prisoners waked up at night around 1.00 AM. Two strange visitors, dressed in black and barefoot, came to invite Dr Roger Lafontant to move out. “you’re free . come with us” Lafontant was said. But, as voices from everywhere in the Penitencier were shouthing: assassins! assassins! The visitors ran away . Dr Lafontant understood. He saw death coming.

He didn’t waste his time. He managed to alert friends aboard and  overseas institutions. At this time, former duvalierists and opponents have traveled mostly for security concern. They tried the best they could to help, but finally by September 29,  violence sprung again, sealing for good the fate of  dr Roger Lafontant.

That day, in the afternoon, relaxing with a friend of his, Dr Lafontant removed  a picture from his pocket. “ This is my daughter”, she had asked me to bring her to the palace on January 7. It was the last time Dr Roger Lafontant saw his daughter ‘s picture.

Stines Doura, the captain in charge at the Penitencier National, had been running the place since less than a year.  Jean B. Borgard, a RDNP member,  who has been jailed for a few days in 1988 following the coup d’état against President Manigat, affirms : “ I've been told that every time, you see Doura somewhere, be sure that death is hanging”..  From a Plateau Central family,.Doura  seemed to have been the  right man at the right place and consequently was considered a hard core Lavalas

As gunshots were heard around 7.PM, on that night of  September 29, witness still affirm that Mie L. Lassegue., a powerful minister of information, informed her president that  a coup was underway.

The bloodthirsty Jean B. Aristide called right away  Doura and  ordered him to have R Lafontant executed. Doura showed some reluctance : himself or yourself, Aristide, a soft spoken man, concluded. Lavalas was crossing the line.  An officer , Boncoeur from Port Salut and a cousin of Aristide,  was his eye and his ear at the Penitiencier.

Doura, a little bit bewildered, called his superior, the chief Police,  colonel Pierre Cherubin to know  what to do.  Cherubin  sided with the president. A soldier, Leus  Sincere, forced  a few time  later the doors of the  political sector and shouted three times  the jailed politician. It was 2.10 A.M. Roger Lafontant was dead.

In the meanwhile, at Les Cayes, the main town in the Southern part of Haiti, Jean Claude Jean Baptiste, a native of Paillant, Miragoane,  and his mob were cutting in pieces at Quatre Chemins , Pastor Sylvio Claude, a fierce opponent to Lavals.  Jean C. Jean  Baptiste  used to be a killer for his master, Jean B. Aristide. Back in Haiti in 1994 and assigned  to a police position, Jean C. jean Baptiste ignited protests and fury from many parts of the Haitian society.

Twenty two years later, disappointed and  disbanded today, the Haitian army doesn't forgive itself  to have left the Haitian president go away after the assassination of Roger Lafontant.  Leus Sincere is still at large in the US. Stines Doura has been seen in Georgia and Orlando after a long sojourn in North Carolina. Jean C. Jean Baptiste went to Caracas and  maybe was back now in Haiti . In Haiti Pierre Cherubin  continues to deny any involvement in this killing.

With  regards to Jean B. Aristide,  the  main killer, he seems to have forgotten his past.

LA PAGE de Frantz Bataille : Ce monde dans lequel j'ai vecu...

Entre L'histoire et La Mer.

 C'est entre ces deux  mondes que mon enfance s'écoula, hantée par une fragilité qui était a la limite du dénuement. Ma mère qui vivait alors ses années solaires ne sut point comment sacrifier aux dieux de la prospérité parce qu'elle était restée renfermée dans son passé de fille du pays profond. Mon frère Pierre  et moi, nous vivions dans ce monde, heureux  déjà que nous puissions  rêver  a ce qu’il pouvait avoir de permanent dans le bonheur.

Autour de nous, les ruines du 19 eme siècle disaient que le quartier n’était pas si pauvre qu’on le croyait. Les murailles envahies par une végétation ingrate se renfermaient sur quel passé, je ne saurais le dire. Mais, tandis que la pauvreté ambiante annonçait déjà l’exclusivisme si fort dans notre société, je me refugiais dans la contemplation de ces gloires défuntes. J’ai su par la suite que le général Pétion n’habitait pas trop loin et qu’il fréquentait la loge des Cœurs Unis et le Grand Orient. Les traditions surtout orales n’avaient point retenu ces époques lointaines. Je me contentais en revanche  de ce silence épais  qui envahissait les grands espaces abandonnés des loges maçonniques. C’était  une sorte de consolation. A part les danses vodou périodiques, il n’y avait pas grand-chose pour faire de mon enfance une enfance heureuse. Pourtant, j’étais heureux.

Non loin, passe l'édifice des Frères du Bicentenaire, la mer s'étendait si immense que j'ai commence tres jeune a me demander ce qu'il y avait au delà.  Un ciel bleu, des navires qui disparaissaient à l’horizon, ces images réveillaient dans mon quartier pauvre des désirs d’évasion vers ces terres lointaines dont parlent les géographes et leurs manuels colores. Chez les Frères déjà, tout ce qu’il y avait autour de nous, les maitres, les réfectoires, l’odeur qui s’en dégageait a l’heure des repas, tout parlait d’un monde contraire et qui n’avait rien à voir avec mon milieu. A l’école, donc, j’en avais pour mon compte avec mon appétit d’évasion. Les rêves commençaient à suppléer à mon environnement. Pourtant, devenu grand, en terminale du primaire, j’ai compris que ces quêtes de l'ailleurs  n’avaient pas toujours ces resplendissements que l’on croyait. Les tambours faisaient notre honte, mais elles charriaient comme un torrent une puissance de vie!

Ces chevaux du Montana, US  ressemblaient aux miens, sauf qu’ils étaient mieux nourris et plus forts. Mon ciel était bleu, et mes gens à moi, même dans le dénuement conservaient une humanité qui me paraitra plus tard bien consolante. Maintenant qu’ils sont tous partis sous les terres humides du matin, le regret devient désormais la rançon à payer à  l’ingratitude et a l’indifférence. Je n’ose plus parler de la richesse des pauvres, ce serait une insulte à la misère et à la détresse physique. Toutefois,  il y aura toujours quelque chose de plus grand que nos comptes en banque et nos conforts fragiles. Son nom n’est autre que le temps qu’il faut prendre pour se retrouver dans ce qui semble si loin de nous.

 Contre mes fragilités et mon dénuement, l’histoire m’était devenue comme un refuge égal a tous les mirages de l’avenir. Je tentais de comprendre sous la poussière des siècles  ce  que le passé pouvait receler  de richesse et de beauté.

                               

 ( A suivre)

COME & SEE AMERICA : RHODE ISLAND,PROVIDENCE, FEDERAL HILL

GLOBE TROTTER NEWS  AT PROVIDENCE, RHOSE ISLAND

FEDERAL HILL, PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND is alleged to be a past neighborhood. Although an aging look appears at a glance, more is to be expected rather from the daily rhythm of life.

Here, Italians, Hispanic seem to have a kind of rendezvous for fun. By noon, Old Canteen, a seventy–five old restaurant has a family touch. Italians remain a community family oriented, eager to gather for any occasion. In fact, on the 29 September, inside Old Canteen, the owner, M. Sal Mazilli  has no time for any comments with the press. “Better be back  in the morning, today is bad day”, M. Mazilli told us. . Employees were indeed  at a rush  to meet the demand of the customers.

Nearby Angela’s shares this mid-day tempo. Angela’s at the main entrance has a kind of discretion that saves the surprise when you step in. Angelo’s. Civita Farnese is there since 1924. It is there  that restaurants  really make history. With its walls  adorned with pictures of famous actors, such as Al Pacino and Marlon Brando, the movie stars of the Godfather, you can understand how Italians try  to save their  icons. Nevertheless, Angelo’s and Old Canteen, both of them, give Atwells and Federal Hill their personality,

Lucia’s across the street seems to be gorgeous as a  multicolor sombrero and an cheerful and polite woman, maybe Lucia, welcomes visitors and customers. Mexico is  above everything sounds and colors, let alone dance and  tequila . This Mexican restaurant is open from Monday to Sunday, ( abierto de lunes a Domingo) reads a business card.

Federal Hill in fact is a business wise neighborhood, comprised of Dominicans, Americans and Italians. Our Globe Trotter reporters marvel at meeting in a nutshell  so many races and nations looking for a living in America.  What a contrast with the very core of the official Rhode Island  with the huge buildings of the past. Federal Hill is showing history  could take a different path, one busy people keep reinventing everyday in  this America so full of dreams…

By the way,  let’s have a drink at Andino’s again an Italian restaurant

Home of the famous stuffed Pizza
181 ATWELLS AVE
PROVIDENCE, RI 02903

        

Since 1924141 Atwells Ave
Providence, RI 02903
401-621-8171

OLD CANTEEN
120 ATWELLS AVE
PROVIDENC, RI

INSIDE ANGELAS'

LUCIA'S
Mexican restaurant
154 Atwells Ave
Providence, RI
401-228-6550/ 401 450 5735
abierto Lunes a domingo

148 Atwells Ave
Providence, RI 02903
401 861 1338

Mediterraneo
134 Atwells ave, PROVIDENCE, RI

ATWELLS AVE, ENTRANCE

ANDINO'S
Excellent fine Italian cuisne
17 ATWELLS AVE
PROVIDENCE, RI 02903
401 453-3164

THE CUBAN QUESTION

CUBAN TIMES NEVER GONE

LITTLE HAVANA


 Sadness always is something to fight.

Outside PUB

Middle class Cubans never stop doing so. As a result, in the restaurants, bistros and stores lining Calle Ocho or nearby streets ,  afternoon times  do not end behind closed doors and noiseless avenues, without singing and dancing. Whatever exile might be, Cuban life strives to remain itself the way it used to be before 1959 and socialism take over the motherland.

One cannot forget that joy was a Cuban invention. As a Hispanic legacy, the island's life is still colorful, exciting and exuberant, even in those endless times.  Pub Restaurant still keeps this tempo. There, food quality is very Cuban, say, spicy, a little bit traditional, Latino, so to speak. Steaks filled with onion, black beans, hot sauce, pepper -filled meat, several types of rice and meals, the famous Cuban coffee called espresso, cake tapped with syrup;  Pub restaurant tries to be a kind of multicultural restaurant. But never mind, its Cuban roots are deeply anchored in Little Havana.

Everything there breathes Cuban times. Adorned map speaks of time already gone yet seems, yet  welcome you with a touch of melancholy and epicurism. The kitchen is not too far. Youths, middle-age women come back and forth, carrying food and beverages. Pub is very relaxing place. Protocol is replaced by simplicity and kindness. Good feelings to fit exile’s mood. What a solace!

Outside, life goes on. The vibrant Floridian sky has plenty of perspective as summer unfolds under its typical sun. Little Havana, the center of the Cuban business, displays behind its glass stores, the forbidden fruit of the Cuban socialism, luxury, car, goods, furniture, good food and so on. Capitalism is now the Cuban challenge. Pub Restaurant stands between this American grace and the shadows of the current Cuban day.

First of all, it lets people live like  they want. Aging ladies and gentlemen, wearing old fashioned clothes of times, moved by danzones and French songs of the late fifties, gather around tables while patting each other. A white-haired man, who might have been  joyful during his youth, improvises playing piano and “tchatcha”. The two-man band seems to be happy to get help as wrinkled women and other people turning the seventies, restart life as in Proust’s Madeleine.

Finally Cuban times are never gone. This is the conclusion. Pub’s owners have done all they could to recreate the Cuban touch of the fifties. A past nostalgic restaurant which is mixing past and present in America, a country for youth and future.

PUB FOOD

THE AMERICAN QUESTION JOHN F.KENNEDY 1963-2013

BOOKLET SERIES


JFK BETWEEN LEGEND & HISTORY

                                 
                                             

                                                     EVEN OUR DREAMS DIE 

BUGYS YOURSELF : A JOURNEY THAT'S WORTH

                                                     A JOURNEY THAT'S WORTH.

 

My daughter told me once these words of Oscar wide that I reproduce not exactly:

Try to reach out the moon, in case of  failure, you would land at least among the stars.

I understand that the struggling daily life for people trying to pursuit some goals is as well a matter of time, inspiration and transpiration. Many times we fail because for one reason or another there is a lack of planning, motivation and time. Whatever the outcome, failure is failure, success is success. And simply put ,the public is there to give us an outstanding ovation or ignore us. But, if we keep thinking about our goals and the destination we are striving for, we finally have the desire to start over and over. This feeling is already the beginning of a fresh start.

That’s why in everything, we have to think of our goals and deep-root dreams and desire.  In any situation, to shield us against  fear of failure, we have to visualize success and the frivolous crowd giving us an applause. Let the smell of victory float on our daily battles,  whatever they might be. The best salary of our work comes from us, once we got a relief after  some hard work and so many hardships. This glow that lights up our faces, this smile and the feeling of triumph that the Roman consuls used to enjoy while horse riding in the circus, it is what we call achievement.  We cannot have this feeling without overcoming our hesitation and our fears as if our first enemy were first at all inside  us.

But at the same time, to move forward, it is within us that we can extract the strength to keep going and walking toward victory and conquests. Dr Max Maxwell said once that the battle is inside us as well as the longing for light that apparently is the essence of life. Continue despite everything to think about light in our travel to the sky . No matter how long it might be, this journey to something above us is worth.  Keep working   until you get something  bigger  than you. There is no other way to get your eureka momentum, there is no other way to reach out this marvelous world that O. Wild believes to be the world of light and stars.

Bugys yourself.

B E...
U NIQUE
G LOBAL
Y OURSELF
S TAR